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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234524">we're all freaks here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfanatic/pseuds/randomfills'>randomfills (spnfanatic)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A/U, Aggressive John Winchester, Aggressive Sam Winchester, Blood, Bottom Dean Winchester, Dark, Dark Dean Winchester, Dark John Winchester, Dark Sam Winchester, Dark Winchesters (Supernatural), Killing, Knife Play, LOTS of violence, M/M, Manipulation, Manipulative Dean Winchester, Minor Character Death, Murder, No Hunting, Nudity, Original Character(s), Prompt Fill, Sadist Dean Winchester, Serial Killers, Sex, Top John Winchester, Top Sam Winchester, Violence, dean looks like a victim but really isn't, may bring in Victor, no monsters, not sure how long this will be, original character victims, outsider pov, shifting pov, spn kink fill, we'll see, wip for now</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:07:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,336</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfanatic/pseuds/randomfills</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark Winchesters who don't care about society's rules and have no qualms at all about the incest. They even get off on it and like surprising their victims with how depraved their sex lives are. Sam and John are both fucking Dean but he's not treated like a sex!toy or a slave. He is perfectly willing and as deadly as the rest of them. Bonus point if outsiders tend to assume he is a victim who can't help but go along with the demands of his family and want to rescue him only to end up regretting misjudging him because of his pretty face. Or maybe making strangers sympathetic to Dean is just another game the family likes to play before the killing starts. Also love for sadistic!Dean who is a skilled torturer as well as manipulator.</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/124792.html?thread=43976312#t43976312</strong></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/John Winchester, Dean Winchester/John Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Uh this is gonna be pretty dark I think. Dunno how long this will be. Read tags carefully. Thank you!</p><p>Also: The timeline for their ages is going to be consistent with maybe season 1. Dean is 26, which makes Sam 22.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter stumbled out of the bar. He could barely walk a straight line - he was fucking wasted. It was a Friday night and a couple of co-workers wanted to hang out after a long, exhausting week in the office. He couldn’t blame them, thought it might be fun to join them - “let loose, a little, Pete”. Now it was nearing midnight and the bartender cut him off for the night and he felt like he was going to freaking puke all over the dark parking lot, hopefully on some asshole’s new Porsche or something.</p><p>He walked around the lot, in the general direction of where he remembered his car was parked. He really ought to stop parking at the far end. Fucking dumb of him. He nearly fell over as a wave of dizziness hit him, his hands quickly reaching to grab hold of something to keep balance. It was a slick, black Chevy Impala - looked new, or at least well maintained. He couldn’t very well tell due to his alcohol addled mind and from the darkness that shrouded over the parking lot.</p><p>He ran his fingers over the car, reveling in its smooth, shiny exterior, hoping the owner wasn’t some rich, douche because this was a thing of beauty. As he stood there, getting his breathing under control again and admiring the Impala, he heard the sounds of footfalls on the asphalt, muffled sounds of voices coming from further down the parking lot. Peter froze. Part of him was curious and wanted to see the commotion, the other part wanted to find his car already and get the fuck out of dodge - not that he was in any state to drive. He just wanted to pass out in the quiet of his home in peace.</p><p>The curious part of him won after several minutes of debating, and the voices getting louder. Peter stumbled past car after car, nearly hurling a few times before he made it to the very back of the lot where the lights were dimly lit (at least they were even on).</p><p>The sounds of a person whimpering in what had to be pain was getting louder and suddenly Peter saw them. There was a man with dark hair wearing a leather jacket holding down a struggling nearly naked man with blond hair. It was hard to tell from the spot he picked, crouching down behind a truck. He made out another man with long dark brown hair, taller than both men, his jeans loosely hanging, his dick large and erect, trying to feed it into the blonde’s ass.</p><p>What the fuck was going on? Was he witnessing a fucking <em>rape</em>? Here in the parking lot of the bar he frequented once a month? He stood up on shaking legs as Blondie made another noise, this one long and guttural, halfway between a groan and something else. Peter was sure the guy was in a lot of pain. Because holy shit, that guy with the long hair was fucking hung and he was just going for it, didn’t even seem to care about Blondie. Peter had to help Blondie. Blondie made another noise as Long Hair fucked all the way in, his head thrown back with a pleasured moan.</p><p>Guy holding Blondie was petting his head, leaning over to whisper something into his ear, probably something to calm Blondie down because Peter could see Blondie relaxing in his hold afterwards. He stopped trying to flail, decided to give into the assault. Long Hair seemed to like that because then he was rocking into him gently, like he was suddenly aware of Blondie’s needs. Peter gulped, wondering if he should interfere. His head was still spinning, felt like he’d puke any minute now. He wasn’t sure how good he would be in a fight if it came down to it to help Blondie escape his tormentors. In hindsight he really should’ve just ignored the situation, chalk it up to alcoholic hallucinations, find his car and sleep off the alcohol. But Peter was known to have a big heart, wanted to help people he saw in trouble. Some of his friends told him he had too big of a heart. That it would come back to bite him the ass one of these days. But he didn’t care. All he saw was a guy getting raped. And it was his duty as a law abiding citizen to help those who were defenseless. And this poor guy was defenseless.</p><p>He gripped the back of the truck, stumbling out, nearly tripping and falling to the side. He caught himself in time. Boy that would have been embarrassing if he actually fell trying to rescue the poor dude.</p><p>“H-hey, leav’ the poor kid alon’,” he called out, stumbling over until he was just a few feet away.</p><p>All three heads looked up at him. Leather Jacket looked him up and down before smirking. Blondie’s eyes were glazed but he smiled and licked his lips. Long Hair was the only one who turned back to thrust back into Blondie, causing Blondie to let out a moan. Long Hair reached out to grasp Blondie’s hair, pulling his head toward him as he continued to fuck him roughly. Peter was frozen in place. Now that he was up close he could see that Blondie was indeed naked. His dick jutted up over his stomach, red and leaking. Long Hair shot his load in his ass and with his other hand, he reached over to give Blondie’s dick a few good, hard tugs. Blondie gasped loudly as he spurted out cum as well.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long he stood there. But Long Hair was pulling out slowly, shooting Peter a look that said ‘you shouldn’t have come here’. And Leather Jacket was still staring at Peter like he was fresh meat, “You don’t look so hot there, man.”</p><p>Peter was about to tell him ‘yeah well I might be a little wasted, but at least I’m not some rapist’.</p><p>But then another wave of dizziness overtook Peter and he fell back, hitting his head on the concrete. He thought he vaguely heard Blondie giggle and say, “Dude. You heard that? He thinks I’m some poor damsel in distress or some shit.” Then everything went black.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter woke up in some shit situations before, but this had to take the cake. He had the worst kind of headache, like a fucking truck ran him over, but as soon as he tried to sit up, or even try to move his hands, he realized he couldn’t. There were clinking noises above his head and he realized within seconds his hands were stuck somewhere there, where he couldn’t see them but could feel them strained in something metal. It hurt as he tugged in his bonds. He paused, feeling the bubbling of panic rumbling in his stomach. He didn’t remember what happened to put himself in this situation. He remembered going to the bar, getting hella drunk, thinking about taking off because no one would serve him anymore alcohol. And then...it went all blank.</p><p>Did he even make it to the parking lot? To his car? He looked around. He was in a room, laying on a bed. Nothing was familiar about this place. It wasn’t his house or his room, wasn’t even one of his co-worker’s houses - he knew what Sandra’s looked like since she invited him to a Christmas party once at her place. It looked, actually, like a hotel room. The bed wasn’t all that soft, the bedspread plain. There was another bed next to his that had a...guy on it. Wait. Peter blinked. His memory was still foggy but the guy looked familiar, like he saw him somewhere before. Blond hair and green eyes and big, plush lips. Blondie turned his head over when he felt Peter watching him.</p><p>His lips curled into a smirk. Peter gulped as he started to remember more from last night. He did see the guy before. Thought he looked like a kid. Thought he was in trouble. And stupid Peter, in all his drunken glory, had tried to step in to help before falling over and knocking himself out. Yeah. Kid looked good now. He wasn’t tied up or crying or looking at Peter like he helped the poor son of a bitch. In fact, he was just looking at him like he was a nice, juicy steak. What the fuck did he get himself into?</p><p>Peter licked his lips as he stared right back at the guy. “Hey,” he whispered, felt his voice nearly crack on the word. Blondie raised an eyebrow, turning his body so that he was laying on his side as he watched Peter. “Hey...look, you gotta,” he paused, his throat felt dry. Peter swallowed and tried again, pulling on his manacles, “you gotta help me, man. Get me outta these. We need...to get outta here. I can get you help.”</p><p>He hoped he sounded convincing. Blondie stayed silent as he studied him, searching for something obviously. Peter just wasn’t sure what. Then suddenly, Blondie’s smile just widened and he bared his perfect white teeth that somehow reminded Peter of a shark just about to have lunch. He shivered. </p><p>Blondie looked behind and yelled, “Sammy! Dad! He’s awake now! Better fucking hurry before I have all the fun without you guys.”</p><p>“W-what? What are you doing?” Peter hissed, struggling to break free, as he glanced into the direction that Blondie was yelling in. He heard the heavy footfalls of the two other men and panicked. He jerked some more at his bonds, wishing he could muster the strength to break free. </p><p>Blondie turned back to him with a grin that promised nothing but trouble. “Don’t you get it yet?” He started to sit up, the movement somehow sensual and slow. He blinked his pretty, wide eyes and licked his lips and Peter was starting to realize that he had put his trust into the wrong person. “You <em>really</em> shouldn’t have come to try and bail me out of ‘trouble’ last night.”</p><p>“W-what are you going...to do?” Peter could think of a few things, each one more unpleasant than the last. </p><p>Blondie stood up and stretched, and Peter realized absurdly the guy was pretty damn tall. He couldn’t tell too much last night because of the lighting and his own state of mind. “Where’s the fun if I just tell you?” Blondie asked him lazily.</p><p>Peter needed to stall. He wished his brain would work faster. Before he could say anything, however, the men from last night, Long Hair and Leather Jacket, approached the bed. Leather Jacket was holding a knife and he sat on the edge of the bed looking at Peter with a sick, wide smile. Long Hair just slung an arm casually around Blondie and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. Peter watched in horror as Blondie moaned and Long Hair grasped the back of his head with one hand so he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to. He definitely didn’t look like he wanted to though. Long Hair’s other hand snaked up his shirt and tweaked a nipple causing Blondie’s moans to become louder.</p><p>Peter had to turn away. This was messed up. He was tied to a bed and watching two of his captors go at it. He saw Leather Jacket just staring at him, lazily flipping the knife in the air and catching it.</p><p>“Those are my boys, you know,” Leather Jacket told him. Peter froze. It was the first time Leather Jacket said anything since last night. He looked almost proud when he said that, like having your sons making out in front of a stranger who you tied up in a fucking motel room was something normal. “Taller of the two is Sam - Sammy. His brother is Dean. They’re my boys.” He paused, and studied Peter with cold, dead brown eyes. Peter had to suppress a shiver. “What’s your name?”</p><p>Peter wasn’t going to tell him. If he was going to die in a fucking motel room with a family of psychos, he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing his name. Leather Jacket just grinned and shook his head. He pulled out a wallet from his jacket and Peter’s eyes widened because it was red and familiar. It was his. </p><p>“Don’t matter if you don’t want to tell me your name, sport. Already took a look last night. Nifty wallet, by the way, Peter,” Leather Jacket told him. He tossed the wallet somewhere on the side of the bed. Turned to watch as Sam and Dean continued to make out. “You got kids by any chance?”</p><p>Peter didn’t. He was only 28 and didn’t even have a girlfriend yet. He shook his head when Leather Jacket turned back and raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. Leather Jacket just nodded in acknowledgement.</p><p>“Guess that’s a good thing. Love my boys to death, but I can’t help but think life would’ve been much better if they hadn’t existed, you know?” Wow that was morbid. Leather Jacket must’ve realized his choice of words and chuckled darkly. “Their mom died when Dean was only 4. We’ve been on the road ever since. Things have been hard on all of us. Not hard to figure that if I didn’t have them, they wouldn’t have to grow up without a mom, without all the pain and struggles. I ain’t an easy guy to live with - not a by a fucking long shot. But they got each other, I suppose.” His eyes softened as he said that.</p><p>Peter gulped, not sure how to react to the information dump. He struggled in his bonds again, making the chains clank. “Why...are you telling me all this?”</p><p>Leather Jacket’s eyes bore into him. He stopped playing with the knife. “Because it ain’t gonna matter if you know.” It sounded more like a promise than a threat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>short but creepy and dark. please read tags carefully for this story. sadistic!dean, sadistic!john, aggressive!sam, they are not the good guys in this story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wanna know the best part about a shithole like this? Location, location, location,” Leather Jacket said. “You pay a little extra, and you’ve got a whole bunch of doors you didn’t know even exist just open right up. People will turn a blind eye to damn near anything if you show them just the right amount of money.” He paused a beat and looked down at Peter. “I know I must be boring the hell out of you by now, Pete. You’re probably aching for me to shut up and get to the good part. But I’m teaching you the value of patience here, boy. It’ll get you far in life. Well...maybe not you. You’re going to die today, after all. But you know what I mean.”</p><p>Peter wished he could say something sarcastic back. With the ball gag crammed in his mouth, the straps tied firmly behind his head, he couldn’t do much more than glare. Blondie - Dean - was looking at him with interest. “Well if he ain’t bored, I certainly am,” he said with a pout - a damn honest to god pout. Holy crap. </p><p>Long Hair, Sam, just snorted, leaning his head on Dean’s. His hands were wrapped around Dean. “You always get bored so easily.”</p><p>“Ain’t my fault Dad likes to run his mouth. Swear to god you just love to hear the sound of your voice,” Dean said. Leather Jacket turned to his son with a raised eyebrow. Dean stared right back before adding, “<em>Sir</em>.” He gave him a mock salute.</p><p>Leather Jacket just snorted. “Alright, boys, seems like everyone just wants to get this show on the road. Shall we?” He twirled the knife one last time and caught it easily by the handle. He handed it over to Dean. “Your turn, champ.”</p><p>“Bout fucking time,” Dean said, taking the knife. Sam released him as Dean stepped closer to Peter, taking his tied up form hungrily. “I told you, you shouldn’t have come.” His eyes darkened and Peter struggled weakly in his chains. The knife was brought down swiftly and Peter’s screams were muffled by the gag in his mouth.</p><p>It felt like hours as Dean tortured him slowly. He could feel himself slowly slipping away, his blood running down from the deep cuts in his chest, nicks on his neck and shoulders. His shirt had been cut in half so that Dean had easy access to bare skin. </p><p>“This is the best part,” Dean whispered. “Watching you slowly die. Watching the life drain out of your eyes. Best fucking thing about the kills.” Dean sliced a shallow cut on his arm. “It’s almost as fun as getting fucked by Sammy. Or by Dad.” There was a sadistic gleam in his eyes as he watched the blood drain from Peter’s body. How could he have thought this guy was ever a victim?</p><p>Dean slipped a finger into one of the cuts on his chest. Peter tried to hiss at the pain. It was again muffled by the gag. He watched dimly as Dean brought his finger to Peter’s lips. He tried to turn his head away but he was too weak to do much more than shake his head slightly. Dean smeared the blood on his lips. He could barely taste the copper of his own blood. What the fuck?</p><p>“What do you think?” Dean asked, bringing his own fingers to have a taste. He moaned softly, “You taste pretty good.” He turned to look back at Sam. His eyes were dilated. “You should give him a taste too. You might like it.”</p><p>“Probably not as enjoyable as yours,” Sam growled. He walked over to stand behind Dean, pressing his hard dick against his ass. Dean moaned at the feeling, leaning back. “Fuck, Dean, did I ever mention that seeing you work is real big turn on?”</p><p>“Holy shit, Sammy. Fuck me already,” Dean demanded, pushing back against the denim of Sam’s jeans. </p><p>Peter couldn’t believe this was how he was going to go out. He was going to bleed the fuck out in some dingy motel with these psychos fucking in front of him. He really should’ve said ‘no’ to the invite. He knew he shouldn’t blame his coworkers but damn it, all he wanted was to have a good night out at the bar and get fucking wasted and not think about the crap week he had at work. Instead, he got a bunch of incesty lunatics.</p><p>Leather Jacket had turned his attention to the boys as they started tossing their clothes on the floor so they could fuck each other like bunnies. He glanced back at Peter, unmoving on the bed still slowly bleeding out, and grinned.</p><p>“You should consider yourself lucky there, Pete. Not every day a grown ass man gets front row tickets to a show like this before taking his last breath,” Leather Jacket told him nonchalantly.</p><p>He reached over to the knife that Dean dropped on the edge of the bed and picked it up. He glanced at it, twirled it around once, then stabbed it into Peter’s hand. “Now be a good boy and enjoy the show.” He turned back to see Dean bent over the other bed, Sam pushing his hard dick into his ass.</p><p>Peter was dimly aware of the moan Dean made just before he let the darkness take him. For good.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Again heed the tags. The lyrics near the end of the chapter are from 'Run for Your Life' by The Beatles.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her name was Lucy and she just turned 18. Her dad got her a truck for her birthday. It wasn’t what she wanted, and it was a little beat up, but it was still something that could get her from point A to point B with relatively no trouble, so she wasn’t going to complain. She was driving on the highway late at night, trying to hurry home from a late shift at work. She was new and desperate for the job and of course, the newbie always got dumped with the crap hours no one wanted to work. But she was fine with it because the job was only part time and it provided some money so she wasn’t a broke college student.</p><p>It was raining out and windy and she was just glad she didn’t have to wait for a bus in this. There weren’t many cars out so late thankfully so the drive was relatively short and uneventful. Or it would’ve been if she didn’t notice a silhouette of a person walking on the road. She hit the brakes hard before she could hit the person. The rain made the road slippery and she could hear the tires sliding, so she swerved around the figure before coming to a stop, blocking nearly two lanes.</p><p>She got a better look at the person and noticed it was a man - maybe not much older than her. She couldn’t tell because of all the rain. He had blond hair and when he looked up, she saw bright green eyes just staring at her.</p><p><em>What the hell</em>?</p><p>A million questions raced through her mind as she examined the man standing in front of her truck like it was perfectly normal. He wore a light jacket that definitely wasn’t meant to weather off the rain and dark jeans that looked like it’d seen better days. </p><p>Without thinking, she leaned over and opened the passenger door and said, “Get in!”</p><p>In hindsight, she really should’ve just ignored him and went on her merry way. She would have an interesting story to tell at work the next evening. And that would’ve been that. But Lucy was too damn curious and all she saw was someone who was out in the cold and walking on the highway who could easily get picked up by some axe murderer or freeze to death before morning. She was just doing what any other good Samaritan would do.</p><p>“Thanks,” the man said, before climbing in. He was beautiful when she got a better look. She wasn’t able to see his freckles that covered his face from where he had been standing outside. But they made him look like an angel.</p><p>She started the engine back up.</p><p>“Yeah, no problem. So, uh, what were you doing out here?” <em>Don’t you know it’s dangerous</em>? </p><p>“I was actually waiting.” His voice was deeper than she expected, but somehow it suited him.</p><p>“Waiting for who?”</p><p>There was a pause. And Lucy found herself glancing over to see the man just staring at her. There was something wrong with the way he was watching her. Something in his eyes that just sung of something dark. She nervously swallowed.</p><p>“You,” he said calmly.</p><p>What? </p><p>And before she could do or say anything, he leaned forward with his hand darting out with something small - a needle maybe? - and there was a prickling sensation and for a terrifying moment, nothing happened and she wondered if this was just a dream. She’d wake up in bed back at her dorm. But then the world was spinning and she was suddenly falling forward, her head smashing into the steering wheel as she lost battle with consciousness.</p><p>-</p><p>She woke up to singing. </p><p>“<em>Well, you know that I'm a wicked guy<br/>And I was born with a jealous mind<br/>And I can't spend my whole life<br/>Trying just to make you toe the line</em>.”</p><p>She was laying down on something soft, staring up into the dark ceiling. She tried to turn her head but couldn’t. She tried to move her hands but found they were tied together above her head to something. She blinked a few times, wondering if she was still sleeping. She remembered last night. Vaguely. Coming home from work. Driving on the highway. It was rainy and windy out. Did she make it home?</p><p>“<em>You better run for your life if you can, little girl<br/>Hide your head in the sand, little girl<br/>Catch you with another man<br/>That's the end, little girl</em>.”</p><p>The singing was coming somewhere to the left of her. She couldn’t turn her head to look though. There was something wrapped around her neck. It made it hard to breathe. Was it rope? Lucy could hear the thundering of her heart. She vaguely recognized the voice of the singer. The man she thought looked like an angel. The man who had been walking on the highway in nothing but a thin jacket and torn jeans and sneakers. Who apparently knocked her out and kidnapped her and tied her up. Oh god, he was an axe murderer and she was going to die.</p><p>She tried to scream but it got muffled into the gag in her mouth.</p><p>The singing paused and then she heard footsteps coming closer. The man from last night entered her peripheral vision. He still looked beautiful but she could see the dangerous gleam in his eyes. He wore a black tee-shirt this time, and in one hand he held a knife stained with blood. The boyish grin on his face looked out of place.</p><p>“Oh. You’re awake,” he said. He looked over his shoulder and said even louder, “Sammy! Dad! The girl’s finally awake! Hurry and come over before I have all the fun!”</p><p>Lucy looked at him with wide, terrified eyes. Her heart was pounding loudly. Oh god. There were more like him?</p><p>Two more men joined him and she tried to scream again.</p><p>The first man walked over and crouched beside her, gently caressing the knife down her cheek. She started to panic, could feel the prickling of tears in her eyes. He was going to kill her. “Now, now, none of that,” the man soothed her gently. He reached out to brush back some of the hair that fell into her eyes. “We’re in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of fuck all. No one’s going to hear you screaming or crying.” His grin returned when she looked at him. “Don’t worry. We’re going to have lots of fun before you die.”</p>
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